


The Horny Cock

by Amuly



Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Crying, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, First Time, HIV/AIDS, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Large Cock, Love/Hate, M/M, Pubic Hair, Stubble Burn, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Monroe's settled into a pretty good life. He's raising his daughter, Bucky, he has a job (albeit tending bar at the "Horny Cock"), and he's keeping himself out of trouble. At least, until his old not-partner Dennis Dunphy decides to show up. The guy just rubs Jack the wrong way (... ... ... or the RIGHT way man I'm so sorry for that).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Horny Cock

Honestly, Jack had always figured when he got jumped behind the bar, it'd be one night after last call. Three am, deepest part of night with no hint of dawn. Not mid afternoon, as he was taking out the trash accumulated from getting the dingy old place ready for the dinner crowd—what little crowd patronized the bar on a Tuesday evening.

But looked like life was determined to keep surprising Jack, because that's when it happened. Broad daylight, as Jack was swinging the first bag of trash over his head and into the dumpster.

"Tranny queer."

Jack waited a beat. This sort of thing happened when you worked at "The Horny Cock." Usually the bigots went away, no harm done. Jack listened to the footsteps behind him. They weren't growing more distant. Alright then.

He could tell by the footsteps it was one guy. Non-super, unless it was some mind powers or something. Jack mentally ran through his surroundings, nodding his head along as he checked every weak point, weapon, and bottleneck. Okay. Okay.

Reaching casually forward, Jack picked up the push broom and attached dustpan he had brought out with the trash to clean off. It was a heavy broom, thick-ish wood handle, big two by four on the bottom for the bristles. He used it every day in the bar, knew its weight, its heft. Jack smiled as he turned around and faced the guy, who was now mere feet from him.

"Did you hear me, fag? Or you got cum blocking up your ears? I said-"

Jack nodded quickly. "'Tranny queer.' I heard you. I was just considering both parts of the accusation. You see," Jack took a step back. Then a step over. The bigot--five foot eight, nine, maybe two thirty, but not most of it muscle--moved with him, smiling. Like he thought he had Jack backing away. Jack smiled back. "The first part, I can answer easily. I'm not transgender. I can see how you might be confused, if you saw what happened in Alberquerque, not to mention those couple of other times I had to do this or that for a job. Or Thursday nights here. But that was purely professional. I can assuredly say that I am, quite happily, male. Inside and out."

The bigot looked at Jack like he'd grown a second head. Or cock. Something unusual. "What the hell are you-"

"But..." Jack continued, still stepping in a slow circle, bigot still matching him step for step. "It's that second part I'm considering carefully. You know, the 'queer' bit. Because 'queer' is a catch-all, you know. It doesn't just refer to homosexual men, which is probably how you intended it."

"Fuck this-" the guy lunged. Jack sidestepped it easily, watching with dismay as the guy stumbled. He couldn't even smell alcohol on this guy, and he couldn't keep his feet under him? Where exactly had this bigot gotten the confidence to pick fights with random men?

Lashing out with the broom handle, Jack landed three quick whacks to the guy's hands, chest, and thighs. He succeeded in corralling the guy back against the dumpster, where Jack had been leading him in the first place. Jack thrust the broom handle forward one more time, stabbing it an inch above the bigot's shoulder. The dumpster clanged, sound reverberating through the back alley.

"I'm not done," Jack explained with a smile. Bigot gulped.

"Anyway, like I was saying. 'Queer' encompasses a lot, you know. I mean, it used to denote just 'odd'. And I'm certainly an odd one, I'll grant you that. But I know that's not what you meant."

"Show you what I-"

Bigot lunged forward again. Jack rapped his ears, first right side, then left. Bigot howled in pain, but managed to keep coming. Jack snorted as he flipped the dustpan up in his other hand and slammed it against the bigot's face. It was a heavy metal dustpan, industrial sort of thing. Cartilage crunched, and the guy fell back against the dumpster like a wet sack of manure.

"And you know, I've spent a lot of time traveling, lately." Jack continued his train of thought as thought uninterrupted. "One end of this country to the other. And I think, after everything I've seen and done, everything I've learned about people and myself, well..."

Guy's nose was bleeding, definitely broken. His ears were, too: sluggish lines of blood crawling out of his ear canal. Jack cocked his head at the bigot, waiting to see if he had any fight left in him. Apparently not. Jack smiled and leaned back, lowering the broom and dustpan. "I guess I'm open to whatever comes my way, at this point. Not limiting myself, you know? And I guess that does make me queer, if a little more broadly than the way you meant it. But it does contain within it the meaning you had when you so helpfully labeled me a minute ago. So you were a quarter right, maybe even half-right if I'm feeling generous, which isn't bad for a man you just met."

The bigot trembled, surprisingly smart enough to realize he was in over his head. He probably pegged Jack as a super, now. Oh well.

Jack stepped to the side and gestured with the dustpan. "If that's all?"

Bigot ran out of there like Johnny Storm was lighting up his ass. Jack laughed as he turned to watch him go... and stopped laughing when he realized he in turn was being watched.

"Hey, Jack."

Jack's jaw worked as he took in the hulking guy that was taking up most of the doorframe to the bar. Finally, inanely, the first thing that spilled from Jack's mouth was: "That's quite the nest of red hair you've got sprouting from your head."

Dennis blushed fire-engine red, terrible contrast to that unmanageable mop of hair he was now sporting. His hand drifted up to it and he tugged. "Oh, uh. It just, grew, you know. Um. Does it look that bad?"

Jack shook his head and stepped forward, handing the broom and dustpan off to Dennis who took them readily. "Sorry, no. Just a shock after staring at that shiny dome for however many months."

"You're one to talk," Dennis pointed out as Jack went back and swung the last trash bag into the dumpster. Jack turned back to Dennis and cocked his head. Dennis gestured to his own hair and face. "Straying away from that boyish clean-cut."

Jack snorted as he gestured for Dennis to head back into the bar. He locked the door behind them. "Okay, yeah, but at least my hair is a sensible color. Debonair, even. Not the color of Ronald McDonald's unwanted stepchild."

Dennis rolled his eyes. "At least I know I found the right Jack Monroe, no matter how much you look like a roughly-shorn Sasquatch."

Jack headed behind the bar, fighting back a grin. Dennis was such a fucking asshole, and he had a tendency to rub Jack the wrong way, but damn if it wasn't good to see him again. Hell, Jack might even welcome old Burnside back with open arms, just to talk shop with someone who knew (well, maybe not Burnside).

"Can I get you a drink?" Jack asked, gesturing at the bar he stood behind.

Dennis smiled and shook his head. "Pop would be fine."

"'Pop,'" Jack repeated, shaking his head. "Down here it's 'Coke'. 'Soda' if you must."

"Oh, I'd rather have a Sprite than a Coke. If you have-"

"No, even if you want a Sprite." Jack grabbed a glass and filled it for Dennis. "It's 'I'll have a Coke.' Then I'll ask what kind, and then you get to tell me it's Sprite."

"That's ridiculous," Dennis pointed out. Jack passed the glass to Dennis, and he smiled his gratitude. Jack maintained eye contact too long, smiled back too wide. He shook his head and looked away. He was starved for his old colleagues, that was all. Even Douche-Man was welcome company.

"That's the south," Jack explained back. "Probably has something to do with Coke headquarters in Atlanta. Just saying, if you don't want to look like a tourist..."

Dennis sipped at his Sprite. "Well I guess I better, since I can't exactly get a tan to blend in." He reached out and poked at Jack's browned arm. Jack shivered a little, and didn't pull away. He frowned. Dennis had probably heard enough, in the alley. Jack wondered what that meant, what Dennis thought of it all. Dennis was always the jolly sort, accepting. Probably just took it in stride.

(Jack wondered if Dennis had already known. Had pegged him from day one, before Jack even had himself fully figured out. Jack did have a blind spot when it came to himself. Dennis might have caught on long before Jack had. Might have been why he kept making the moves on Pricilla. Jack shook his head. Ancient history.)

Jack slapped a little beat into the bar. "So: what brings you to this fine establishment?"

Dennis snorted into his drink. "Yeah, uh. Quite the name you got there, Jack."

Jack threw a thumb over his shoulder at the sign above the bar. "What? It's a rooster with horns. I don't see what else you could think the name meant."

Dennis nodded facetiously. "Oh, sure, right." Then he trailed off, good humor draining from him for a moment. "You, uh. That guy, in the alley. That happen a lot?"

Jack shook his head. "Less than you'd think, probably. And I can handle it. Never been anything that I can't."

"Is that why you're working here? Looking out for them? Or, uh..." Dennis trailed off, gesturing meaninglessly. "Or. Well..."

Jack watched Dennis flounder for a few moments more. Dennis was much more bearable like this. Without Cap between them, out of his comfort zone. Jack could grab a bite with this Dennis.

Jack's eyes drifted down to Dennis' thick fingers, his broad hands, the corded tendons standing out starkly from overbuilt muscles on his neck and forearms. Jack swallowed and forced an easy smile.

Shaking himself from his revere, Jack gestured broadly, waving his hand in a circle. "Come on, spit it out. You heard it all, anyways."

There was that terrible ginger blush again. It was so much worse with that mop of hair. Jack laughed.

"Well it's a private matter, isn't it?" Dennis spluttered. "I didn't mean to overhear you... you..."

"Outing myself? Dennis, for fuck's sake, I work at the Horny Cock. Under my own name. I'm out."

Dennis rubbed the back of his head before spreading his hands over the bar, palms up. "You've always looked after everyone, Jack. Regardless of race, creed, gender, or sexuality. I wouldn't be surprised to find you here, or at a black parish, or a women's shelter, or an AIDS clinic. You don't discriminate, everyone knows that. Except maybe against gingers."

The smile that had left Jack's face at the mention of an AIDS clinic returned, slightly dimmed, at the end. Picking up a washcloth, just to have something to do, Jack started wiping down the bar. Dennis didn't know. No one knew. It was just a coincidence. "I'm working here because I could use the job. I'm working _here_ , in particular, because I got rid of some bad rubbish that was hassling the owner one night when I was just out for a meal. It was either take the job or let Bobby blow me right there in the middle of the floor. And I'm not much of an exhibitionist these days."

Dennis choked on his drink. Jack laughed.

"So," he changed the subject out of sympathy for Dennis' sensibilities. And because Jack thought he might go blind if Dennis's face contrasted any more with his hair. "What brings you around? Trying to put the band back together? I think Steve's back to being a full time Avenger, playing in the big leagues with his cool friends. I doubt he'd be interested."

Dennis shook his head, smiling down the bar. Jack hunched his shoulders and scrubbed harder. "Just finished up some things on my end and wanted to check in. I heard some of what happened, but I was dead for half the time, mixed up the other half... I wasn't sure what was true and what wasn't." Dennis glanced around the bar, sipping at his Coke (Sprite). "I don't see a kid, so-"

"She's at preschool right now. I close up and pick her up in an hour, before we open."

Dennis sputtered in his drink. " _That's_ true?! Of all the things I heard, the kid-"

"Bucky."

Something soft and sad crossed Dennis' face before he shook it off. Jack hoped it wasn't pitying. He didn't need any of that, not these days least of all. "Seriously? Bucky?"

Jack shrugged. "Honestly, what did you expect? I'm still me."

"Did you... You didn't..."

Jack winced, heading back down to where Dennis was sitting. He leaned forward against the bar, resting on his forearms. "Did I bring her on missions, strapped to my back? Is that what you're asking?"

Dennis looked up at Jack with wide eyes.

"Not anymore?" Jack tried. A strangled noise escaped Dennis' throat. "Not anymore!" Jack tried again, protesting this time.

" _Jack_ -"

" _Dennis_ ," Jack replied, pitching his voice high and whiney. Honestly, the day he took advice on how to raise his kid from _dumbass_ man, the dumbest superhero to ever attempt to wear the cowl... Jack stalked angrily away, ostensibly to rearrange some glasses that were already in their proper place.

"You lay off the righteous crap, alright, Dork Man? I've got this. Me and Bucky, we're doing great, and we don't need-"

"For goodness' sake, I wasn't trying to pick a fight, but _Jack_ -"

"But what?!" Fuck this guy rubbed him the wrong way. Honeymoon was over and Jack was ready to get Dennis gone, again. Nice catching up, thanks for stopping by, but you can go now. Jack glanced up down Dennis, playing the big man. "Seriously, Dennis, if you're here to criticize the way I'm raising my girl you can fuck right off, back to whatever hole you crawled out of." Jack slammed a cabinet shut and snapped the towel over his shoulder. "Go back and suck Steve's all-American Johnson for all I care."

“Jack-” Dennis reached out to grab Jack's arm. Jack yanked it away, growling.

“Seriously, Dennis. You speak two more words about Bucky, and-”

Dennis snorted. “And, what? You going to deck me?”

Stalking around the counter, Jack drew level with Dennis. Well, shit: he'd forgotten how many inches Dennis had on him. Still, Jack stood his ground, poking a finger into Dennis' chest.

“I could kick your ass back when we were Steve's merry men, and I've had a hell of a lot more brawling experience since them. Can you say the same?”

Dennis rolled his eyes to the ceiling, hands going up. “I didn't come here to pick a fight with you, Jack-”

“Then what do you think you're doing?”

“You know-” Dennis reached forward again, probably just to nudge him. But Jack grabbed his hand out of the air, arresting its movement. Dennis pulled back, to yank his arm away, but Jack held firm.

“Let go.”

“Make me,” Jack taunted.

Dennis pulled harder, and shit, he was just as strong as Jack remembered. The force of Dennis' yank sent Jack stumbling forward, into Dennis' chest. Dennis looked down at him and smirked, and all Jack could think was _Wipe that smirk right off your fucking face_. And then they were kissing. Both of them. Kissing each other.

Oh, shit.

 _Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea,_ Jack's brain was helpfully chanting at him. Fuck, he was HIV positive, he couldn't do this without telling Dennis- Dennis' tongue sucked against Jack's, lips pulling him down, down, drowning him. Jack moaned and pressed against him, erection already at full mast and straining against his zipper. Oh fuck this was a bad idea, but...

"Bathroom?" Dennis asked him. Jack shook his head.

"Break room. There's a couch. But-”

Dennis kissed him again, hands wrapped tight around Jack's biceps. _Painfully_ tight, Jack was liable to have bruises there for days. Jack's head swam with arousal at the thought. Oh, damn it. They were doing this. Oh, shit.

Dennis shoved Jack into the break room, against the couch. Jack knew he needed to tell him now, before they did anything. Just as he opened his mouth, though, Dennis grabbed a fistful of his hair and brought him close. Jack bit back a desperate whine. If he didn't say anything maybe Dennis would toss him around some more.

"Do you-" Dennis hesitated, like he wasn't sure how to play this part. But then his jaw firmed up and he narrowed his eyes at Jack. "Why don't you put that big mouth of yours to good use?"

Jack hit the ground so fast his teeth rattled. He'd have bruises on his knees tomorrow, too. His fingers shook as he ripped open the button on Dennis' jeans, zipper tearing down. Dennis' erection sprang free, thick nest of red pubic hair crowding the base. Jack's mouth watered and he couldn't help moaning.

Dennis' hand was in his hair, but he didn't need to encourage Jack in the slightest. Practically falling forward into Dennis' crotch, Jack wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and sucked it down in one movement.

“Oh, _ff-hnn!_ ”

Jack had almost made Dennis swear. Well gee-wilikers. Jack pulled back, took a breath, then dove in for more. He opened his jaw wide and relaxed his throat, burying his nose in Dennis' pubic hair until it flattened out at the base of his stomach. Dennis' whole body jerked, second hand coming up to grab helplessly at Jack's hair.

“You're- Jack, oh, that's-”

Yeah, Jack was pretty good at this. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, with how many times some villain or petty asshole had called him a 'cocksucker' in the past. Or maybe—Jack pulled back a little, tongue lathing a line up and down Dennis' cock as he savored every taste of musky maleness, of sweat and skin and stink—maybe Jack just really fucking loved a nice fat cock in his mouth. And Dennis' was nicely proportional to the big guy's build. Fat and thick and long. Fuck, Jack would be dreaming about riding this cock for the next year.

Jack's erection was throbbing in his jeans, so he reached a hand down and relieved the pressure. He stroked himself a couple times, just for the friction, before returning his attention to Dennis' cock. Pulling back, Jack licked his lips once before looking up at Dennis.

“Well? You going to use my mouth or just stand there like the Dork Man we both know you are?”

Dennis growled (but he was smiling, the asshole, he was smiling this happy little smile through it) and his grip in Jack's hair tightened. Jack's dick jumped in the half-second of anticipation. Then Dennis yanked Jack's head against the wall and held it there.

“You want me to use that mouth?”

 _Yes, fuck, yes, please!_ Jack held his mouth open, looking up at Dennis' through his eyelashes. Keeping one hand tight in Jack's hair, Dennis used the other to guide his dick into Jack's mouth. “Going to, ah, uh... going to just take it, okay?”

Jack wanted to ask if that was a request or an order, because it sounded too-sweetly like the former. But he had a nice big mouthful of fat cock, so actually, the cocksucking did the trick and he kept his metaphorical mouth shut.

Dennis started to fuck his mouth in too-shallow thrusts, like even after Jack's display of deepthroating prowess he was nervous. Growling low in his throat, Jack reached up and shoved his hands down the back of Dennis' jeans, grabbing two handfuls of rock-hard ass. He yanked Dennis forward as hard as he could, staring up at him meaningfully. Dennis licked his lips.

“Okay, okay, I'm...” With Jack's hands encouraging him the whole way, Dennis' hips picked up the speed of their thrusts. Jack moaned and opened his throat, eyes rolling back as Dennis started to fuck his face with vigor. His head knocked back against the wall, until Dennis' hand tightened in his hair, keep his head firmly pressed in place. Dennis' cock was _dragging_ down his throat, gagging him with its thickness. Jack's mouth flooded with saliva as he just took it, just kept his aching jaw opened wide and took every meaty inch of it. His own dick ached, spilling precome all over his jeans.

“You, you like that?” Dennis asked, and it almost sounded like a genuine question. Jack moaned and managed to flutter his eyes open for a second, just long enough to wink lazily before they rolled back again. Dennis' hands tightened in his hair as his hips bottomed out against Jack's face, grinding fiercely before pulling back to thrust anew. Dennis' pace was approaching uncomfortable, Jack finding it harder and harder to time his breathing. Jack fucking _ached_ , practically half a step into coming all over himself with hardly a hand to his dick this whole time.

Dennis' hips jackhammered against his face, cock ripping open his mouth and throat. Jack's eyes stung with tears, vision getting spotty at the edges with less and less oxygen. Dennis pulled back for longer one time and Jack managed to get a good breath in before his throat was full again, Dennis _grinding_ and _grinding_ his hips against Jack's face, pubic hair going up his nose, throat raw with the head of Dennis' cock. Dennis pulled back and fucked him hard some more, hips slamming into Jack with increasing force and speed. Jack held onto Dennis' ass with both hands and blinked away tears.

“I'm going to, ah, I'm close, Jack, I'm about to-”

Jack dug his fingernails into Dennis' ass and glared up at him, holding him tight in his mouth even as Dennis started to pull away. Dennis looked down at him and moaned, brokenly, shaking his head.

“Jack, Jack, I-”

Jack squeezed Dennis' ass again, continuing to meet his eyes. Dennis finally got the message, or just couldn't hold off anymore, and came with a moan. His hands immediately loosened their grip on Jack's hair, instead sweep gentle caresses as his body shook against Jack, spilling himself down his throat. Jack couldn't even taste it until Dennis started to pull out. Jack lapped at the head of his dick as it passed through his mouth, tongue darting into the slit to get the last good drops of come hiding in there. Dennis moaned again, fingers rubbing gently over Jack's eyebrows, temples, and cheeks. Jack chased the dick just a little bit, sucking and sucking at its head as it slowly grew more limp, looking for every last drop of come he could until Dennis pushed him away.

As Dennis slowly sank his way down to to the floor, Jack reached down and jerked himself off hard and fast. He was there, he was right there, all he needed was a few seconds of contact and he'd be gone. Jack licked his lips, tasting the little bit of come he'd been allowed, and felt himself nearing the edge.

“Let me take care of you,” Dennis murmured. Jack trembled and jerked, body on the brink. He shook his head. Dennis' nose nuzzled at his jaw. Jack sobbed. “Let me-”

“Can't, can't-” Jack panted, jerking himself fast. “Got it, I-”

Dennis kissed him softly and Jack let go, orgasm shaking out of him in a way he hadn't felt in... well, a damn, damn long time. Through it all, Jack made sure he kept his hand over himself, catching his own come. Couldn't risk it, couldn't risk Dennis... Though he didn't mind the kissing, was willing to let that go on as long as Dennis would. Jack found his clean hand was clutching at Dennis' shoulder, holding him tight as they kissed and kissed and kissed.

“Next time-”

“Don't.”

Dennis sighed against his mouth. Jack leaned forward and captured it again, kissing him in apology, in a bid to make him shut up, in whatever. At least Dennis got the message and didn't try again, just kissing Jack back as long as Jack wanted it.

Finally stubble-burn was starting to get to both of them and Jack unclenched his fist from Dennis' shoulder. His other hand was a disgusting mess of half-dried come. He had to take care of that.

“Bathroom's through here,” Jack said, as they pushed themselves to their feet.

They tidied up in silence, Jack scrubbing the biohazard that was his own damned body from his hand and jeans. In his periphery Jack saw Dennis watching him in the mirror, but didn't look up to meet his eyes. Dennis was a soft touch, and Jack... Well. Actually, he didn't really have any excuses any more, did he? He was settled down, raising a kid, holding a job. There wasn't any reason to pull the whole lone-wolf Sarah Connor bullshit, was there?

They headed back out into the bar together, put to rights. Jack checked his watch.

“So-” Dennis started, fingers drumming nervously on the counter. Jack ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“So. I've got to pick Bucky up in thirty. Then I'm back here in three hours to open up for the night. That's...” Jack shrugged. “That's me. That's where I'm at.”

“How old is she?” Dennis asked. He held up one hand defensively. “I'm not picking a fight.”

Jack hunched his shoulders. “I know. Didn't think you were.” Jack's fingers itched to go for his wallet. But that was pretty suburban of him, wasn't it? Dennis probably didn't care. He'd come here looking for the superhero Nomad, not proud papa Jack Monroe. “Two, now.”

“Can I... Do you have any pictures?”

Jack dug into his back pocket too eagerly, pulling out his trifold. He flicked it open and square after square of wallet-sized pictures spilled out. Dennis laughed, hands going out to flip through the long line of pictures. Jack watched his face as he did. Dennis' eyes were shimmering, grin happy and easy. If there was any disapproval, any judgement before, it wasn't here now.

“She's gorgeous,” Dennis lauded her. “And so big! Look at her, running around...” he flipped from one picture to the next. “She's like a little person!”

Jack snorted and leaned across the bar, bracing himself on his forearms. “Yeah, she's that. Jabber mouth, too. Started talking at nine months and hasn't shut up since.” Except when they were on missions, of course. Jack kept that last part to himself. Not like they went on missions together anymore.

As Dennis neared the end of the photo strip, Jack drummed his fingers against the bar. Dennis was still smiling, still cooing over each picture. His chin was red with obvious beard burn, lips still swollen. Jack glanced up at that ridiculous mop of red hair on top of his head, and he sighed. Well, fuck. No excuses, were there?

“You want to meet her?”

The shock on Dennis' face might have sent a younger Jack running for the hills, or maybe picking a fight. But Jack was older, now, and maybe, just maybe, a little more mature. A smidge. At least he'd been in enough situations now that he'd learned sometimes there was a third option. Jack shrugged.

“She's friendly as hell. And I don't mind.”

Dennis pulled back a little, expression cautious. “You said-”

“I said stop overthinking it. Stop trying to plan things. I asked if you want to meet her. That's all.”

Folding up the wallet photos, Dennis handed the wallet back to Jack. Their fingers brushed, because Dennis was a sap, and Jack was indulging him.

“Of course I would, Jack. It'd be an honor.”

Jack snorted, real casual, and tucked the wallet back into his jeans. “Alright, then get your coat. Or not, it's ninety million degrees out there. Come on.”

As Dennis waited outside for Jack to lock up the Horny Cock, Jack nodded to himself. Alright. Okay.

Jack flicked off the light and told himself to stop planning what he'd make Dennis for breakfast tomorrow morning.

 


End file.
